In my twenties, I started to see the splits where assimilation had entered my family’s life. After the tension of my childhood and teen years, where I seemed to live in two worlds, the one inside my home and the one outside of it, we seemed, like so many of the people around us, suddenly less ethnic, more American; less boisterous, more “civilized.” The divide between inside the house and outside narrowed. Thanksgiving dinner became more, well, Thanksgiving dinner-ish—the antipasto plate and the lasagna gradually disappeared from the table, and there were more casseroles of mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce in their stead. Christmas Eve began to end earlier and earlier, where once we’d all gone to midnight Mass, then came back home to open gifts, drinking homemade wine, cracking walnuts and roasting fresh chestnuts.
For the first time in my life, I began to understand how the process that had already, many generations ago, happened to my American friends unfolds—how our families become less old world and more new—and how quickly, in one generation, really, connection to our roots can begin to erode. Although being Italian was still a very big part of our lives, a sad space in my heart had been carved by this change, and I accepted the loss of connection to the past as inevitable. It felt bitter and irreconcilable. I knew my parents’ generation was the last true thread we had to hold onto, and they wouldn’t be here forever.
I think this is when I really began to seek ways to incorporate my roots into my life for myself. I’ve always been kind of stubborn and rebellious, and I think this was my way of pushing back on what I saw coming down the road. If one day far off in the future my mother would no longer be here to cook fresh gnocchi or red sauce with penne, then I would. If her home would one day be silent of the sounds of Massimo Ranieri and Gigi D’Alessio as she cleaned the house, then mine would fill with them. If the television sat dark and mute of the voices of Italians in movies and shows like “Don Matteo” and “Montalbano,” then mine would flash with them. If no one else will be here to cook the fish on Christmas Eve, I’ll do it, even if I’m also the only one left who will eat it. And if the language of my ancestors starts to vanish from the mouths of those around me, I’ll be sure it abides in my own.
Just to write of all that loss gives me the shivers. I hate to even think of it. But I’m trying to say that at some point, we have to choose what matters most to us and how we want to live in this world. For many years I’ve held a space for the work I do to take me to Italy. I dreamt of having working relationships with those based there, of hosting workshops, writing books about and from there, recording, filming…The idea that I could do the creative work I love and have a part of it based in Italy became a dream. If I was really going to be able to hold onto my ancestral culture, it felt like I needed my heritage to be more than a vacation every few years. If I was going to keep it close, it needed to be a part of my work, because work, of course, is an enormous part of life.
Now that I’m a mother, wanting to give my son a deep connection to his ancestry is a large part of this desire. So it brings me great joy to know that he’ll be making his first visit to Italy in just a few days, where, in part, his mother will be working. You may have heard on Instagram and “Bella Figura—The Tradition of Living Beautifully” that Shaye Elliott, of The Elliott Homestead, along with her husband and daughter, and of course my family, will be heading to Sicily to film episodes for YouTube, write blog posts, take photographs, and in general share beautiful bits of Sicily with the rest of you. Shaye isn’t of Italian ancestry, but she has fallen in love with the country—its way of being, its food, its conviviality, its warmth. She and her work reflect so much of the very same things I care about, with a focus on family, fresh, clean food made from scratch, being in nature, and living beautifully. Friendships based on shared values and vision are the next best thing to family.
My dear friend John Viola, of The Italian American Podcast, will also be joining us. It’s fitting to be traveling with John. When I began this journey, John was one of the first people I met—young like me, passionate about his heritage like me, trying to actively live its traditions as I was—who made me feel, Yes, this is doable. This can be done. We became close friends, and my community of other like-minded young people of Italian ancestry began to grow. It’s hard to explain how much comfort this gave me. I could see a light at the end of the road, which had for so many years simply been darkening. Now, I had family outside of my family. I didn’t have to rely solely on its dwindling Italianita; I had my friends, now, and their connection to their culture and its traditions, even its language, was fresh and vibrant and alive. They would be with me on the rest of the journey. They understood this desire to live as I wanted to live, which is not necessarily a prevalent one in our society, and to work and remain connected to Italy. John is my son’s godfather, so Angelo will be traveling his ancestral homeland with his cumpare, something that to me seems very old world and very traditional. In fact, I remember my eldest brother being taken to Italy for the first time in the ‘80s by his godfather, an immigrant from Southern Italy. In Italian culture the bond with godparents is meant to be real, a true extension of family. So here we are, where vision becomes reality. Where desire is actualized, brought from the nebulous into form.
This is how I want to live.
Recently on Instagram, I wrote about how much work has gone into planning this trip. The work with John and Shaye is just a portion of our travels, as my husband, son and I will be staying for several weeks after. Putting in this much time reminded me that to get where we want to be, we have to labor. We have to grow the plants if we want pure food in our cupboards. We have to plan the trips if we want exceptional experiences with our friends and for our families. We can’t hang back and wait for our lives to find us. We have to get up and create them. We tend to imagine our dreams as light, airy bubbles that float around us, aspirational and ethereal in form, but really dreams are hammer and nails, wood and sweat. We have to build them. We have to sweat and often even accept that other aspects of our lives will be neglected in their pursuit. This wasn’t the calmest summer for me. I didn’t spend nearly as much time with my flowers and my garden as I would’ve liked. I didn’t take as many photographs as I planned to when, in the cooler days of March and April, I started lovingly planting them from seed. They were my sacrifice for this vision. I only have so much time and energy. I had to choose on what I was going to spend it.
Here’s the dirty little secret of modern life: You cannot, in fact, have it all. You can have a lot, but you’ll have to work for it, and you’ll have to offer up something else on the altar of time to create it.
I’m rolling the dice that this particular sacrifice will be worth it. That if we have to choose how we spend our time, and we do, I’ve spent mine wisely.
I’m really looking forward to sharing the trip with you. I plan to send regular dispatches right from here and on Instagram. If you’re interested in following along, make sure you’re following me on IG and also a paid subscriber here, so that you receive all the content I’ll be putting out there, along with behind the scenes looks with Shaye and John.
We’re starting our trip with a dash around the food markets of Palermo, then we travel to Santa Flavia, a beach town in the region; we’ll visit an organic winery and farm set amidst 14th Century structures. We’ll travel to the Aeolian Islands, UNESCO World Heritage Sites, including the island of Aliculdi, my husband’s ancestral home, and of course now mine and my son’s as well. We’ll make traditional Sicilian food with a Michelin Star chef and native of the islands. We’ll swim in the ocean, drink wine, travel to the countryside and stay in beautiful, old-world style homes. We’ll work, but also we’ll make time to gather together around the table. To be in communion with our families, savoring, celebrating life, slow living and the beauty of this world. I’ll be working and living in my ancestral home with my own family, the one I created, drawing lines from the past to the present, and with God’s grace, right on into the future.
Thanks for being here with me, truly.
Dolores